


Quit Dragon Me Around

by Seven_Abominable_Snowmen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blacksmith Derek, Dragons, Gay Rights, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 20:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seven_Abominable_Snowmen/pseuds/Seven_Abominable_Snowmen
Summary: Secret Santa gift 2017 for acollectionofsterek.





	Quit Dragon Me Around

**Author's Note:**

> A/N The Title really has nothing to do with the story except I was trying to make a dragon pun.  
> MERRY CHRISTMAS!

When I was a little girl, my dad used to tell me this story about a man and his prince. It wasn’t a love story, not at first. They didn’t get along well enough for that, drove each other positively mad. But the madness gave way to fondness which eventually gave way to adoration. They lived in a world where humans received soulmarks. Others had an instinct and left a bite when their mate was found. None of this mattered though, not if your mate happened to the be same gender as you. Love was a struggle and it almost tore the kingdom apart. It was forbidden, even for a Prince and his Mate.

-+-+-+-+-+

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as the carriage faded from view, but he could not stop the tears from leaking out and flooding down his face. Another couple, taken, and their only sin was love. In the eyes of Human law, however, “love” was another word for “heretic” when the bond was between two of the same sex. 

Another couple from his clan he could not save. Another couple from his kingdom as a whole who would perish because mortals were foolish. And because he was not king, he could not do a thing about it. 

And the king would not listen to this voice of his only son.

Stiles would know, because he had tried relentless. Maybe that was the reason for the steep curve of his shoulders, this weight that would cause him to crumble if he had to bear it much longer. The guilt. Too many friends, too many Clanmates, too many of his People. All because his father, the king, was too scared to oppose the Human’s council, for fear that if he made a stand, the secrets of the Dragons would be released and royal family or no, a massacre might ensue not only against the royal house, but even single Dragon in the Clan. Because the humans had no idea their royal family was comprised of dragons, or even that dragons existed. Although, why the secret of Dragons should be in danger if his father took a stand, Stiles could not figure out. Maybe his father figured it would slip out during the explanation of why same-sex love was not a crime, or bad, or disgusting, or derogatory. 

Because Humans could not fucking comprehend the ability to love anyone with the same genitals. Or anyone at all, with the amount of slaughtering they did. Senselessly. Shamelessly. At great cost. 

Because humans could be more monstrous, destructive, deadly, than any fictional story they had ever created for themselves to read at night.

Doyle. Doyle and Finn. Both 17, a mere 4 years younger than he. Two sweet dragons, childhood Bondmates, who got Reported. Fucking traitors. Fucking cads. Fucking scoundrels! 

Stiles squeezed his fists white, because as the prince that was as much anger in his stages of grief that he was allowed to show. Maybe not even pressed fists, but concessions must be made. He was losing it. Good men and woman, disappearing. For what? Because they couldn’t reproduce? Because they “harmed” people who would rather sentence lives to death than look away? 

**Doyle and Finn.**  
**Trish and Anya.**  
**Fairchild and Alazar.**  
**Hans and Fynnegan.**  
**Tonya and Michelle.**  
**Tony and Michel.**  
**Lorna and Francie.**

And _that_ was the Report toll in the last fortnight for god’s sake! At this rate, no one would be left because the population was being culled faster than could be reproduced. And his father would do nothing. He would stand by and watch his People die.

This was not the greater good, no matter what his dad tried to convince him. This was pain. This was sorrow. This was an ache.

And the worst part was that Stiles was forbidden to have his Bonded, because his Bonded was also a man. 5 years, Stiles has had to watch his beloved from the shadows. At least if he wanted to openly oogle. In close quarters, he had to act unnatural. For natural would be ravishing his mate and relishing in their bond, starting the process that would give his human mate the same long life span as his dragon mate. But no. Humans and their pea sized brains restricted him from his only. Except for Derek. Derek did not have a pea sized brain. Derek was perfect. Derek was the sun, and the moon, and quite possibly his northern star. Stars were important to dragons. Derek was definitely his northern star. Fuck it, his whole damn universe.

Which is really damn tragic because he was clumsy as hell and probably made bad impressions on the love of his life daily. But the love of his life mostly looked bemused with him and not offended or horrified so it was okay. 

And it’s not like it was either or their faults that Stiles’ world revolved around Derek more steadfast than his duty to his kingdom, that’s just how the bond worked; instantly and intensely. But neither the bond nor being a prince cure him of being an awkward, hyper young man.

But what can cure him of being awkward and hyper? This shit. This shit brought out his dragon, and his dragon was a lot more composed and a lot deadlier, even when Stiles managed to restrain his dragon within his human form. 

Hell hath no fury like a man forced to watch his beloved remain unclaimed and watch people he cared about die.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and jerked him out of his stare down with the long-empty gravel road. 

“Your highness, we must go. It is not proper for you to be seen here.” His royal guard urged.

“Right. Let us go.” Stiles looked down at the puddle he had created and crushed the moist dirt with his boot.

The dust has settled but his rage had not.

\-------

Derek paused from where his mallet hit steel and wiped his arm across his brow. He was hot, his shirt was soaked through with sweat, the drops of moisture sliding from his face sizzled as they hit hot metal, but he felt the cool pinpricks of hair standing up on the back of his neck. He was being watched, the same constant feeling he had had for the last 5 years. He knew better than to look, because the feeling-his watcher-simply went away and he never gained any answers.

The only thing he knew was that he felt The Pull. Whoever was watching him was his mate, was aware they were mates for why else would they stalk him for 5 years, and would not reveal themselves to Derek. This was either because they thought Derek was human and humans did not know about shifters, or they were a man. Both options sucked.

And Derek had no clue who his mate was because The Pull was constant, but it was also unchanging, meaning he couldn’t gauge a shift in The Pull based on physical location. Lord, that would help. But, no. It was a constant, baseline hum. And he was going mad. 

Daily, he’d get female admirers-they would come in, watch him work, stroke his arm to feel his “muscles”, giggle. He’d even get males who would watch him out of the corners of their eyes. But none would initiate the bonding process. So if his mate was interacting with him, they were keeping their hormones or mental control or whatever the hell kick-started a matebond, dormant. Unaccessed. Abandoned.

That’s how Derek felt, abandoned. 

Not by his family. They were always there, always noisy, always loving on him, even on his grumpiest days. But his mate did not want him for whatever reason, refused to claim him, and until a werewolf was Claimed, they could not shift. Being stuck in his human form was a slap to Derek’s pride and a prison sentence to his wolf. 

He had better hearing, better smell, even claws and fangs on occasion. But no wolf could fully shift until their wolf was Released by a claim. For a werewolf, it was part of their bonding ceremony. But a good number of werewolves would always be trapped in a sole-human form, because they could no longer mate without risking their lives. Derek hoped his mate wasn’t a man, because he did not want to spend a life alone, but he also did not want a woman.

He used to, but he had been taken in by the lowest of the low and put under her spell. His mate had saved him with a warning. His mate, always watchful but never forthcoming. Rejected and yet protected. Conflicted. This was why Derek had to pause with a groan of frustration, a rumble in his chest that reached up and scratched his dry throat, as he had to toss yet another mostly-finished piece of craftsmanship away. As soothing as being a blacksmith was, it also let his demons catch up to him. And, unfortunately, his demons always decided to destress instead of appreciate his hard work. 

Chucking the ruined scraps of metal into the water bucket and then a growing pile in the corner, he pulled out a new sheet of metal and started again. 

Stubbornly, he ignored Boyd on the other side of the furnace, shaking his head at Derek in pity.

\-------

Hauling heavy things was no problem for Derek, because he was strong. Hauling his work to the castle gave him a cold sweat because Prince Stiles lived there. Prince Stiles was an annoying younger man who made Derek feel funny. Prince Stiles tied up Derek’s tongue, much to his chagrin and Stiles’ delight. 

Sure enough, as he passed through the gates with his commissioned work, just in front of the castle on the stone walls around the garden, sat Stiles, leaning back on a bricked curve, chewing an apple, reading a book, and swinging his hanging leg like there was nothing better in the world he could possibly be doing.

Except maybe annoying the stuffing out of Derek. 

Derek moved past Prince Stiles, ready to do his best to ignore him, but then he caught a whiff of agony. And the smallest traces of salt. The prince had been crying. Maybe not at the moment, but recently. The wolf inside Derek made him stop, grew restless. 

“Prince Stiles,” Derek announced, but it came out louder than he intended and the prince startled, yelped, and promptly fell off the side of the border wall. 

He came back up rubbing his flank as he rose, a hiss clacking through his teeth. It took him a few seconds to open his eyes, trying to soothe the pain before figuring out who the blazes had the audacity to cause him injury, to find his beloved. Instantly his annoyance changed to warm, fuzzy feelings, his ire forgotten, his booboos better. For how could they not be, when he got to be this close to his Bonded. 

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, stepping near him.

“Oh yes, I’m okay! Thank you Mr. Hale. Quite well, actually. My bum only hurt for a moment, no big deal!” he hurried to assure him. Derek pinked up adorably.

“Oh, well that’s good! Indeed, I’m glad to hear it. But I was referring to the tear tracks on your face. Just there.” Derek reached out and gently swiped his thumb over Stiles’ cheek, compassion in his eyes. Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed (or indignant that Derek saw) that he was doing something so unmanly as cry, because he was being touched by an angel. 

His eyes slid shut, and he embraced the feeling for mere moments before he abruptly stepped back. Derek must have realized the danger too, because the move was simultaneous. 

“Yes, that. I’m okay, Mr. Hale.” Stiles pressed his lips together and looked at the ground, trying to keep from blubbering anew. Patient silence followed, giving Stiles the strength to speak further. “It’s just….you remember Doyle? From the bakery? And his sweet parents?” Stiles bit his lip, losing the battle, his voice squeaking, his tears releasing. Crying was to be therapeutic, but so far it wasn’t. It just wasn’t. 

Derek dropped the metal he was hauling and pulled the man to him, and then for proprieties sake, dragged him, chest to chest, inside the high walls of the garden and away from the opening. Here, he could hold the man that drove him crazy but also grounded him. The man that was now breaking down and trusting Derek to see him like this. “Shhh, yes. I remember.”

His hand went up to stroke the princes head, gently, trying to soothe. Stiles’ hands came up and grasped Derek’s tunic in a death grip. “They took him!” he wailed. “He’s gone, and so is his lover. They were my friends. I don’t have many of those. And now they’re both _gone_ and my father will do _nothing._ ”

Derek’s heart clenched. Not only could he not ease Stiles’ pain, but those men were good men. They were part of Stiles’ clan, if Derek was not mistaken. Both red dragons. Both childhood sweethearts, having felt their bond early in life. And now they were being punished for it. 

Doyle, who had eyes only for Finn, which was more than Derek could say about most married men. And Finn, who worked opposite shifts at the Blacksmith. A real stand-up guy who Derek shared his noon meal with when Finn could not provide his own. Equally devoted to his mate Doyle. 

Gone.

Derek said nothing, just clung to the weeping man in his arms that much tighter, his delivery forgotten and soiled on the ground.

And Derek felt confused, because this felt a little like love.

\------

As gently as he could, Stiles reached for a flower beside where he perched. It was beautiful, and a shame to pick, but it was so tempting. He was further hindered, however, by his massive talons. His dragon moaned. 

_He loves me_  
_He loves me not_  
_He loves me_  
_He loves me not_  
_He loves me_  
_He loves me not_  
_He loves me_

Sighing, he dropped the barren stem to join a pile of other barren stems, petals strewn about his large form like confetti. 

His mate had been missing from the palace for 5 weeks. Five hideously long weeks. Of course, he was still around town, probably working in the blacksmith shop, but he was not with Stiles and that’s what mattered.

If only petals really told fortunes.

If only Stiles was fortunate enough to claim his mate.

If only his mate were….well, not female. But maybe in love with him too. Surely a secret relationship was better than no relationship at all? Could a prince manage a secret mating? His dragon didn’t think so, for it cried out softly with the agony of hopelessness. 

But fell silent, because all of a sudden he could hear the underbrush move. Dragon smell was so keen, he barely had to move his nostrils to confirm what he had subconsciously figured out about 15 flowers ago. His mate was on his way. His mate was about to see him in dragon form. 

Fuck.

His human mate was about to learn his secret.

Barely able to tense with fear, his breath caught as Derek bounded out of the woods, heaving, sharp fear clinging to his pores. But the strangest thing happened; he did not flinch, he did not step back in horror, he did not even look surprised. No, Stiles’ mate simply uttered words that had Stiles heart locked in an unforgiving, cold vice for entirely different reasons. 

“Stiles, it’s your father. You need to come quick, he had a hear-” but the rest of the sentenced was drowned out by rushing blood, deafening him as it drained from his face. His heart? His body definitely felt colder, emptier. He hadn’t even been aware his dragon had retreated, to lick his wounds in the private haven of their shared mind. Not until-

Strong arms shook Stiles, knocking his teeth together but restarting his breathing with a gasp. Everything was louder, brighter, and he felt funny. Floaty. He didn’t feel human. Was he alive? His beautiful mate seemed to think so. Focusing on Derek was an effort but he did it. One minute, his mate was mouthing something at him and the next someone hit “unmute” and Derek’s voice shook with panic.

“Stiles, I’m sorry. Please be okay. But your dad needs you, right now. We’ve been looking for hours.”

Carefully, legs wobbly and unsteady, Stiles used Derek’s support to stand. “Take me to him” He whispered, but it was raspy and almost silent and caused Stiles to cough.

“Of course.” Without hesitance, Derek scooped Stiles into his arms and carried him back the way they came. “I’m sorry your highness, but you’re in no condition to fly or walk and your father needs you _now_.” 

Later, Stiles would remember how curious it was that Derek showed no reaction to his shifted form, but at the moment Stiles’ mind was blank. Next thing he knew, he was beside his pale, unconscious father, still encased in Derek’s arms. 

The great thing about the castle was, with only a few nosy humans in exception, the palace was filled with clanmates, and clanmates didn’t have to hide. No one stopped Derek from holding his prince, or panicked about repercussions-and if they cared enough to find it odd, they said nothing.

A doctor, old for even a dragon, closed his medicine bag and turned to the pair. “Your highness,” he said diplomatically. Royal protocol dictated how wrong it was for Stiles to be in Derek’s arms, but blessfully, the doctor didn’t care. And Stiles wouldn’t have cared even if he had. “Your father has had a heart attack brought on by stress. It wasn’t a mild one, either. I’m afraid, if he does not slow down and take it easy, you will lose him.” 

A desperate, painful mewling left Stiles lips, but Derek’s unwavering calm stabilized him. He latched on, greedily sucking the stability and warmth into his body. He loved his father. Despite the anger toward his People and their suffering, he would never forsake his father. No matter how much they disagreed, King John was his father.

“Will he survive?” Derek asked for him. Stiles buried his head into his mate’s neck and tried to hide from the answer. Terror gripped him. Sobs threatened to bury him in the rubble of their escape. 

“It is possible. But not if he carries on as he were.” Armed with his bag, the doctor moved to leave the room to give the family their privacy, but stopped in the doorway. He looked at the King’s advisor, ever present but equally unobtrusive. This time, the man stood in the corner, watching everything with a keen eye. Silent in the important moments, but always assessing. Always there. “It is unsolicited, but my advice would be for him to either leave more duties with his son, or abdicate altogether if he wants to live. Dragons-” the doctor cut off, but a nod from Derek had him continuing. “Dragons live a very long time, but if our human side is not well or at peace, sometimes that ‘very long time’ becomes much shorter indeed.” 

With no more to say, the good doctor left.

Derek just walked to the nearest chair and dragged it directly beside the King, who looked frighteningly lifeless on his bed. Never letting go of Stiles for a moment, he sat down, cradling the boy tighter, pressing a kiss to his precious head.

The advisor left the prince to grieve his father’s condition in private, but not before staring down Derek with a judgmental glower. Derek barely noticed, instead wondering how he could have missed that his mate was right there all along.

Silly Derek.

\------

King John recovered. As advised, he lessened his workload. Stiles was bogged down with more responsibility, but he refused to forgo making time for his beloved. His beloved whom had realized he existed. His beloved who cherished him back. His beloved whom he snuck to the dwellings on Lupus--the wealthiest district--to cuddle with at night when he could shake off his guards. 

For months, stolen kisses were his alter of worship. Nightly cuddles settled him and gave him strength to forge ahead. Heated looks from a distance enabled him to put one foot in front of the other. A kind word, a subtle touch in passing, had him floating on cloud 9 for days. But still, he had not been able to claim him. Still, more and more of his People disappeared, murdered or enslaved far away from his village. Still, his father grew weaker. Still, he took more on daily, until he had taken almost the full kingship upon himself while still retaining the title of prince. Still-

Still all good things must come to an end.

“Will I see you tonight?” Stiles gave Derek his best coy look, wrapped his fingers in his mate’s lapels. 

Derek groaned, quietly, and grabbed those hands. Held them tight and fought not to bring them to his mouth and kiss him. “You know I can’t. My mother is getting suspicious. My family wouldn’t care, but if anyone finds out-“

Stiles let out a harsh breath. “Yes, I know. I know better than anyone.”

Isaac, his personal servant, had been taken just the day before. His father watched, before being forced to retire to his chambers. How Stiles thought his father stopped caring about his people was beyond him. He cared so much it was literally killing him. More reasons to resent the Humans controlling his father through fear. They were bullies, they were murderers, and nobody would do a thing to stop them. 

“I miss you already.” Stiles pouted. Fuck, he just wanted his mate. He wanted to see the claim upon Derek’s skin. He wanted his dragon to meet Derek’s wolf. But Derek’s wolf wouldn’t come out until Stiles bit him and Derek bit him back. And the sex happened. (But that was more for fun and less to complete the claim).

“I miss you more,” Derek cooed, leaning over to rub noses.

A clang of falling metal. That horrible sound that would never leave the minds of either man because of the devastation one moment in time brought upon them. 

They never saw who reported them, but they felt the reprocussions.

\-------

Spit flew at Stiles from every direction. Hatred. Humans had so much hatred, and why? He was supposed to be their prince. He hurt no one, followed the rules and when the time came to step into his father’s place, ruled fairly. Mere months, but they were fair months. Yet here he was, pushing through a noisy, near violent crowd, to a wooden platform that had hastily been erected 15 hours earlier. 

The crowd wasn’t all bad, of course. But the forlorn and hopeless stood off to the sides and in the back, gazes downcast and misty. Devoid of any emotion that wasn’t flat and hollow. Their prince was hurting and there wasn’t anything they could do. For his clanmates, their prince’s mate was about to be hung and there was nothing they could do. Sure, they could turn into dragons, but exposure was forbidden and the reason they were all here in the first place. 

Noise tunneled in violently from every direction, making Stiles dizzy. Steadfast, he followed Derek’s chained footsteps, blocking out as much that wasn’t his beloved as he could. His dragon roared inside, pissed, hurting, bloodthirsty. Rage at even a hint of losing his mate to barbarians melted his insides with it’s molten, deadly core. Lava reached every crevice from his brain cells, to his finger tips to his toes.

Still he kept his beast caged, despite the losing battle. His eyes flashed, but no one was likely to notice in this chaos. The frothing spectators were self righteous, cheering for the death of someone they deemed impure. Stiles couldn’t be touched, because Stiles was a prince. 

And because the bootless clapper-clawed harpy who turned them in only turned Derek in. Brave, loyal, gorgeous, kind Derek. The best mate to ever mate Derek.

If he ever found out who did it, they were going to die. 

The travelling party reached the stage and immediately went to work getting their victim into place. They weren’t gentle about it either, and Stiles’ fangs almost pierced his own lips. How dare they lay hands on what was _his_. 

“Enough!” decreed Stiles, as they started to work the rope around Derek’s neck. “I will do the honors. That is an order!” he commanded when they hesitated, unsure. That would not do. Stiles was the prince, Stiles was the ultimate voice in place of his father, and they would listen, whether the Human Council told them this was the law or not. 

He had no intention of doing the “honors”, of course. Not unless the “honors” was around the necks of the 6 men in their comfy chairs in the spectator’s box only a few feet away. Guards protected them from the mass hysteria, extra insurance if the crowd got “too” out of hand. Because of course soulless demons who didn’t mind killing people simply because they didn’t like them, would have no conflicting emotions about using lethal force on innocent (annoying as hell, but undeserving of death) men and women if they became a “threat”. Things they could not control, in any capacity, were a threat and had to go.

The joke was on them, because Stiles was not his father and he refused to bow down to these dizzy-eyed cod pieces. 

He moved to stand beside Derek, more to make sure no one could touch him again then as the show of power he was sure it looked like to the crowd. Regardless, they felt his presence, felt the power and intimidation of his dragon and instinctively gave him their submissive silence.

Stiles wanted to do so many things in that moment. Rip the Human Council to shreds, or incinerate them where they sat. Slap everyone for being stupid. Eviscerate them for threatening his mate. Cry for how their innocence was tainted and forged into hate by the bigoted aforementioned cod pieces. Scream at the injustice. Blubber over his love being in danger. Growl at everyone who even looked at him. Curl his hands into fists. But he did none of that. He had a speech to deliver. He had lives to save and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not today.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I come before you today with a heavy heart. This man who see here, a blacksmith by the name of Derek Hale, has been found guilty of loving another man. That is it, that is his crime. He has neither harmed nor stolen. He has not killed, has not raped. I stand before you, supposed to deliver his death warrant and make him pay for his crimes, but instead I am shamed by my People. 

“Everyone in this boisterous crowd wants to see this man hang. For being compassionate and loving toward a man. We all want to believe we have soulmates, correct? Do not lie, I sit in the throne beside my father and listen to pleas for hours on end for days on end. In some way or another, most of you are looking for that one thing that completes you. Our religion says there is reincarnation. It never says we are the same gender in reincarnation. If we have a soulmate, who’s to say in one life time you’re not both male or female, and in another a male and a female. If you’re a male in one life time with a female soulmate and a male in another but your soulmate has been reincarnated male. Maybe, through your hatred and bigotry, you’ve already killed your other halves. God have mercy on your souls. Derek Hale is my soulmate,” an uproar shifted through the crowd, objects were thrown, verbal hate and cries of shock reverberated among the humans.  
“Then you must die too!” shouted one disgruntled person.

“Hang until you dance!” shouted another.

The deafening uproar got louder, filled with rage filled roars and pleas to end their prince’s life. But this dragon would not go down easily. 

A bit of his dragon escaped his leash. “Silence!” he roared, infused with the dominance of his shifter half. 

Once again, all feel silent in heed to it.

“I hereby pardon blacksmith Derek Hale of all his crimes. He will not hang today or any day for this madness you call a crime.”

Lord Tnegra stood up, outraged. He had been silently seething but he could be contained no longer. “You have no authority to do that. Our word is final, [i] prince. [/i]”

“Your word is not final. The law does not give you the final say and it is time your reign of tyranny ends.”

“You are but a prince. You have no authority over us.”

Stiles smirked, his gaze narrowed, and Lord Tnegra got very nervous. Not so much over the power he was sure the prince didn’t have, but because of the merciless vibe coming from the enraged individual. No, not enraged. His rage had settled into something far more controlled and worrisome.

“I am not a prince. I am King Stiles and you will obey. My father abdicated and I was sworn in under God to protect my people from tyrants like you. My word is law. And my law is that same sex relationships are no longer illegal or punishable by death. And my second order of business is to eliminate all members of the Human Council. Those seats shall be vacated and filled with people I hand choose, as is my right as newly crowned king.”

“You cannot!” was sputtered.

“This is ridiculous!”

Even, “You will die first!” 

This last was said, unsurprisingly, by Lord Tnegra. He lunged for the platform, shouting “You disgusting disgrace, you will never be king!” He knocked down guards as he rushed them.

Stiles’ dragon let out a roar and all fighting ceased. The fights that had broken out in the crowd, the yelling, Lord Tnegra caught in midair as he threw himself onto the platform. 

“I, King Stiles Stilinski of the Northern Realm claim Blacksmith Derek Hale as my mate.” And before Stiles could control his dragon-ney, perhaps he had not been trying so hard to fight his dragons will because he was in agreement-his fangs elongated and he struck fast to the neck of his beloved. In milliseconds, a responding sharp prick was welcomed in his own neck. 

And then Derek was free. His silver-furred beast leaped right at Lord Tnegra, bit down and shook his prey.

-+-+-+-+

“Ohmygod stop! That is not what happened” Aubrey shrieked, then started to giggle.

“Oh, it totally is.” Her dad promised. “He shook that bas-loony toon real good. Cathartically so. And it served him right.” He sniffed. He leaned dramatically against his husband. “Derek, back me up.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes. “But if Papa turned into a wolf, you would have gotten into trouble for breaking the law and spilling the secrets.”

“We did.” Derek “Or, kind of. We had to deal with the fallout of ‘monsters exist!?’ but considering your dad makes all the rules….”

Stiles hmmphed in triumph. “Exactly. It was worth it too. Keeping my secret was really drag-on on me.” He chuckled manically but Aubrey and Derek groaned and rolled their eyes. Derek gave his husband a kiss for his trouble. 

“The joke was on them, anyway, because a dragon can impregnate his mate.”

“That’s right Aubrey.” Stiles bopped his daughter on the nose. “But they still deserved to die, especially that sleezy Tnegra-“

“What Daddy means, honey, before he goes off on another tyrant, is that loving however you want is not a crime. So you want to marry a Johnson.”

“You can damn well marry whoever you want. I saw to that!”

“Yes, yes, the stars are the limit, but even if you had found and decided on a nice alien, that would be fine too. And, okay, the Johnson’s are our enemies because Mrs. Johnson bakes the best pie in 5 surrounding states and beats Stiles in the annual pie competition every year. The point is, you have our love and blessing on your marriage tomorrow, Pumpkin.”

Stiles grumbled but leaned into his husband and then sighed. “Yeah, we he said. But my grandchildren better not be sea otters.” He sniffed again, playfully. “I eat sea otters for breakfast.”

Aubrey giggled again. “Dad, dragons don’t eat sea otters!”

“Well that’s good, because your fiancé is marrying one.”

“And he’s the luckiest guy in the world, baby.”

“Not as lucky as I am to have you two as parents.”

A chorus of awwws rang out, tight hugs were given, all was well and not a dry eye was left in the house….and the wedding wasn’t even for 16 more hours. 

Outside, the sun was shining on mountains and houses and pools. Cars and bikes and lampposts. Centuries had passed since those days. Sometimes, the story goes on to tell about how the king and his mate ruled fairly. The rescued who they could of their People sent to work camps, mourned the rest. Rebuilt their city, worked tirelessly to make mates feel safe and shifters feel comfortable to no longer hide. It was a slow process, and it took decades. Eventually, they wanted a child and then his mate began to fall sick. Worried, he went to the doctor only to find an egg in Derek’s stomach. Their child was born 40 years into their rule, might to the surprise and wonder of many and the ire of the last of the dissenters. Dragons could be born if they willed it, and who your mate was no longer meant a thing (not that it ever did). 120 years later, my eldest brother took over the throne, because dad and papa wanted to enjoy their growing family, really enjoy it. Jev is doing just fine, sometimes we go visit the old kingdom. I have four brothers and two sisters and we like to gather in the place of our ancestors. I’m the youngest and the last to find their mate. We are fortunate to have all lived happily ever after. That’s how the story always goes. That’s how dad always ends the story-with whatever my latest accomplishment in life was.

Or sometimes he gets sidetracked on the evil buggers bit. That’s my dad for you.

THE END.


End file.
